


Chalky Foundations

by Cers



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon divergence for episode 2x106, Horribly self indulgent, I just miss him, Jury is out on who is pining more for Essek: the author or Caleb, M/M, May or may not include hand holding, soft vibes, what if, with added fanart!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25966786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cers/pseuds/Cers
Summary: What if Calebhadmanaged to get a teleportation circle scribed?[spoilers for 2x106//early episode 2x106 divergent]
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 11
Kudos: 252





	Chalky Foundations

Slamming into the ground was enough to expel and any all water from his lungs as he expectantly materialises a few feet above their intended destination. Caleb coughs and splutters, echoing his friends doing the same around him on the cold, marble floor. The weight of his water-sodden clothes bears down upon him as he pushes himself up, counting heads- eins, zwei, drei- acht. 

Good, all accounted for. 

Water pours from his hairline, down his coat and streamlines to an unwavering trickle on the otherwise meticulous runic circle beneath him, and sheepishly the rest of the Mighty Nein stand to greet the two guards holding post in the Bastion Teleportation Chamber. Vilya also rights herself, and there’s a notable tinge of pinks, purples, and darker hues amongst them all as the cooler air here takes effect on their skin. 

There is a lamentable amount of water steadily pooling on the floor, but it will be easily dealt with and not damaging, he knows. They’re all breathing heavily, water mingling with sweat and desperately enjoying the normal room temperature around them.

Laughing in disbelief, Beau and Veth double check body parts and loot. Fjord seems to give a silent head-count of his own and Jester’s already waving and throwing winks at the guards as she strides forward. The rest start to follow suit, a soft splish-splish and _squelch_ of their footsteps tailing them in the resulting puddles recording their journey. 

Last out, Caleb gives an awkward bow to the bewildered guards on duty and ducks his head out quickly, keeping pace with his friends. Frumpkin peeks over his shoulder, two tentacles curling up to maintain balance. 

Jester, unphased by her state and the looks they are now receiving, walks through the otherwise utterly pristine hallway of the Under-Arches, has linked arms with their guest and is excitedly chatting about Rosohna and the Queen and “How pretty she _always_ looks, Vilya. She’s so beautiful, _truly-”_

A pair of nobles veer to give them a wide berth, not hiding their surprise. 

Caleb just turns his sopping wet collar up and squeezes a little more water from his coat sleeve. 

“-and one time we came through here in our _bath robes-!”_

His heart was still calming down, truth be told. The fight with Vokodo had been a challenge in itself and all of the moments after had been a frantic scramble to escape the climbing heat. His hands alone were nearly as red as his hair with swelter. He imagines his head is all one shade- it certainly feels it. His ears- he could swear they steamed on arrival just with the change in temperature alone-

“Oh- Essek! Hello!” 

Caleb’s head shoots up and follows Caduceus’ voice to its intended target where sure enough, Shadowhand Essek Thelyss floats on the opposite side of these wide hallways. Beside him, at his shoulder, was a bespectacled drow with pinned, white hair wearing a matching expression of bemusement as their friend. Essek takes a moment to collect himself (by which point Jester is already furiously beckoning him over with an unmatched, enthusiastic energy) and whispers to his companion. The individual closes a book they had been consulting, and almost stands at respectful attention as Essek leaves their company to join the Mighty Nein. 

“I- _this is_ -” he starts, staring them up and down almost wildly. Without prompt he immediately starts reciting a familiar spell and one by one the Mighty Nein start drying on the spot as he works his way along. “What _happened-?”_ he manages between cleaning Veth and Fjord. Caleb watches on as Essek just focusses with practised movement and reciting Prestidigitation over and over. 

Jester leaves Vilya to follow him along, filling in some of the details, words and hands flying a mile-a-minute. He dries up Yasha, who offers a small, shy smile in return. 

“And then the _volcano_ started erupting-!”

Essek ceases at this, dropping his hand back beneath the familiar mantle and stares at her incredulously. “You were _serious_ about the volcano?”

“Ja.” The response spills from Caleb’s lips before he could think to _not_ say it. The effect is immediate. Essek swivels his head round, almost owlishly, and stares at him. 

It takes a lot for Caleb to suppress the sigh he wishes to make. The last time he had seen _Essek_ was on a crate in their now-sunk ship, with tears in his eyes and secrets on his tongue. While ‘Desran’ shared a few of Essek’s features, he was _not_ the proper representation of the man. 

“Ja,” he clears his throat. “Very serious. It was… quite a wild ride.” Essek searches his face, his hair, his eyes, but gives no movement otherwise. 

“And the water got so _hot_ Essek that we just had to get out of there _fast-_ so Caleb scribbled his spell _underwater-!”_ Jester continues and actually bumps Essek’s arm a little, knocking him out of whatever reverie held him. Essek shakes his head, a few perfect strands falling forward, and quietly continues his spellcasting on Caduceus - who gives a deep nod of thanks. He drifts over to Caleb, keeping his head low and tilted to Jester as he almost wordlessly dries him. Caleb’s eyes bear down at Essek, willing him to show the flashes of silver and black again, but the gaze is not returned. He declares his gratitude, but Essek has already swiftly moved on, saying nothing. 

The Shadowhand pauses at Beauregard with his elegant hand held out, spell ready, and an eyebrow raised in silent question. Even Jester picks up on the tension and shies away a little in her storytelling. Beau gives a sniff, and raises her chin to appraise him, arms firmly crossed and poise deliberately cocked. 

Essek doesn’t flinch, and matches her energy coolly. 

It seems to be the right response for… whatever Beauregard was looking for and she grins, unfolding her arms outwards loosely. Smirking, he completes his spell and she dries off. “Thanks, man. Sorry about the floor.” He gives a huff of a laugh and regards said puddles. 

“It is unlikely to be the last time you trail in something other than yourselves. And once more I see you failed to contact ahead of time?”

“Ah, yes, well. You see-” Fjord steps forward. “At this point we figure that if we _did_ contact ahead of time then you might figure it wasn’t actually us arriving so _really_ we’re just keeping in with character and tradition now.” He gives Essek his most charming smile and a look that says ‘everything I just said is bullshit and we both know it.’

And it works. Essek chuckles, and it’s a lovely sound. Jester claps her hands and beams, while Caduceus ducks his head to laugh deeply too. Even Beau gives a snort of amusement. 

“Indeed. I do believe the guards on rotation are made aware of your proclivity to forgo certain procedures. You jest but that may very well be in protocol for checking your arrival now. Speaking of which-” and he makes his way to Vilya. “Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, fri-, associate of the Mighty Nein. May I?” He gestures to her still dripping garb. 

“Oh! Please-” and the spell is completed before she can finish. Hair almost bouncing to a less weighted down volume, she positively glows in the cool light of the Bastion sconces. “Vilya, lately of Rumblecusp Island. Our mutual... _associates_ have just aided in ending a terrible predicament that befell me and a number of others.” And in what could almost be a rehearsed practise, the two turn to regard the Mighty Nein with equally fond expressions. “They have just undone something very terrible, by doing something very great. And I am truly thankful for their aid,” she finishes.

Essek’s smile is small, but genuine and proud, looking over each of them. “Yes, they have quite a habit of performing such feats.” And the gaze lands on Caleb finally, lingering, absorbing, before flickering curiously to Frumpkin and then back to Vilya. 

Floating, Essek matches her height and it was a curious contrast- all browns, greens, and reds aside deep blues, purples and silvers.Wild and Conserved. Autumn and Winter. Warmth and Cold. Hearth and Home. 

But it’s only for a moment, the image. Vilya turns, speaking leader to leader almost, and her face falls serious once more. “I fear though for what has happened to my people- the volcano was erupting but I am unsure if it has continued-”

“If you require transport there I can certainly provide especially if the timing is urgent-”

“Oh I just need a-” Vilya starts but Jester cuts right across her almost stepping between the two.

“Yes please Essek that would be _most_ appreciated!” and she clutches the one hand he still has outside of his mantle with two of her own and well, practically all of the Nein know there’s no denying her. 

“Very well,” he responds solemnly but doesn’t pull away from her grip. “I will need to finish up here if you can wait less an hour-?” He indicates to the drow across the hallway watching them impassively through round glass lenses. 

“Yes! That’ll be perfect, oh _thank you_ , Essek!”

Veth has sidled up to him at this point and juts her chin at the bookish figure. “Who’s that?” she clicks. 

Essek’s head turns a fraction in the direction before responding. “Telluren, one of my attendants,” he says as though it’s very obvious before elaborating at the silent response. “One of my secretarial staff. They were delivering an update on matters I cannot-”

“You have a _staff?”_

“Yes, of course. I am the Shadowhand.” He looks bewildered at the line of questioning. Fjord, Beau, and Veth all balk and indicate disbelief. 

“Huh- well… I suppose we never really _did_ ask what it is that you do exactly as Shadowhand?” Fjord says, shrugging.

“A staff. Huh. Cool. Me too,” Beau comments, giving a lopsided smirk and juts a thumb to her weapon of choice. Fjord silently reaches a fist out, to which Beau bumps it back. 

“Indeed. Very… ‘cool’.” Essek answers awkwardly, before returning to Jester and Vilya. He pulls his hand away from Jester’s, but returns it on top of hers at her protest. “I must make some swift arrangements, but I will be by the Xhorhaus within the hour. A pleasure, Madam Vilya. Welcome to Rosohna,” and he offers a very graceful bow before turning and floating away. 

“I like him,” Villya offers thoughtfully. Caduceus hums, also following their friend’s return to the company of the individual they were with. 

“Me too.”

“He can’t pick out very nice baked goods, but it’s something we’re working on,” Jester chimes in. 

Yasha also speaks up from Caleb’s left, “he’s certainly interesting.”

Caleb silently trails every movement, every swish of the mantle and jaw motion as Essek rapidly delivers instructions to his companion before they goes fully out of view. 

“Oh, come Vilya! You’re going to _love_ the sky-!” Jester loops her arm with Vilya’s once more, and ignoring the looks and whispers of the few denizens still passing through the Under-Arches - the Mighty Nein walk outside to the familiar sight of the dark Rosohna skyline. 

Vilya gasps- her first real taste of any non-nature based civilisation in over two decades and the Nein stand back a little to let her take it all in. Caleb thinks he hears Veth sniff a little with emotion and places a comforting hand on her shoulder- still a little warm, but not uncomfortably so as it may have been minutes prior. Yes, Rosohna was certainly a welcoming sight to behold, oddities though they may be. A few small groups or individuals pass by them as they stand at the threshold of the Lucid Bastion, but they care not as Vilya drinks in the wide, urban landscape before her, extending all the way out to the far mountain ranges and spiked spires of the Barbed Fields barely visible in the distance. Beau almost mirrors Caleb unknowingly, and walks to place one comforting hand on Vilya’s shoulder, clasping it firmly and smiling. “Yup, pretty stunning.” She breathes deeply, taking in her own long glance. “Come on, we’ve got one _hell_ of a tree to show you.” 

It doesn’t escape Caleb’s notice over the next few minutes, that Fjord keeps subtly patting his clothes and looking down often at his attire. He pretends to not see the side-glaces he receives whenever he deliberately lifts his hand to push his hair behind his ears or to scratch Frumpkin a few times more often than he usually might on a typical walk. He does meet his friend’s accusatory looks _once_ , and just offers a faked expression of innocent questioning. Fjord squints and carries on walking their well-traversed route home, hefting the weight of the bag on his shoulder.

But then he has a thought. Pulling Fjord aside, he quickly scoops out a handful of gold - far more than he needs for this- and tries not to think about the obscene riches they now carry. The coins are still slick with some water droplets, and warm to the touch, but his hands are not branded as he fills his money pouch. With a quick promise to catch up soon and an extended list of wants, he disbands from the group, leaving Frumpkin with Veth and quickly marches towards more mercantile thoroughfares. 

It doesn’t take long to restock personal supplies, picking up a few more components others had requested upon hearing his destination. He declined company, wishing to stay in his own head for a bit. It was a way to give him space to decompress, while doubling up on the needed task of topping up. The menial task of focussing on material quality and calculating costs was a soothing way to direct his churning mind as he ruminates on why he chose Rosohna as their destination. Nicodranas was certainly closer to Rumblecusp, not that it mattered with a _tree_ teleport. 

He briefly wondered if Vilya would be amenable to discussing the particularities of how that operates at some point. He was certainly curious to know more. She didn’t appear to be consciously religious so perhaps not some divine, esoteric powers… perhaps relating to the Leylines? Some transferal of energy through an unseen network? Or that each tree holds a particular mark or personal indicator she can tap into not unlike destination teleportation circles? Does she have to see a tree several times? Is a glance enough or is thorough study required to know its characteristics-?

His silent questions go unanswered as his hands work through the motions of measurements and comparing spell components. He knows which incense Caduceus favours now. He’s aware of Veth’s favourite types of fleece in descending order. He knows which merchants will swindle him for being human, and he knows who to throw a charming smile to for a small, but meaningful discount or bargain. 

He also spies something that he would normally gloss over for its prestige and price alone- especially when plainer, works-just-as-well alternatives were available. 

The weight of his purse had barely lightened, and this felt eerily representative of his compressed, leaking thoughts. 

Caleb exits the shop in a daze, unsure if such a purchase was wise. Or needed. Or helpful. It would be used of course, ja. But the aesthetic significance felt a little too close to the point for his liking. Or perhaps it was fear. Or perhaps because he did know the answer and wished to not confront it yet. 

Regardless, he filters in and out of two more storefronts swiftly obtaining what he needs and was asked to collect. Caleb starts homewards and ruminates on his thoughts, trusting his feet to follow the frequented paths now for him. 

It’s all so...domestic that it startles Caleb a little just how _settled_ he is here. For… for _years_ he was looking over his shoulder, jumping at the sound of every armoured horse or plated feet marching. Here he was free to wander, head lost to questions and theories, ideas and more questions. Here his biggest concern was … losing a few more silver than he should really spend on a spool of thread or- 

Or finding the Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty awkwardly floating in front of his house, looking up at it with a troubled face of trepidation. One hand had breached the still cloak to grasp the metal gate with a grip so uncharacteristically tight that Caleb feared he may draw blood. 

It never occurred to Caleb how much he misses the Xhorhaus until he’s so far away from it, or right up close after being away for so long. Precisely four weeks away and the sore thumb that is their own welcomes him with warm glowing lights and a beautifully out-of-place tree. 

And Essek just seems to fit into this incongruent jigsaw as well as the rest of the Mighty Nein, even if not all of them can recognise that yet. 

He’s about to softly call out and alert the man to his presence when Essek’s shoulders set in a steely resolve and he pushes the gate open- 

And _strides_ up the pathway. 

Caleb is so caught off guard that he doesn’t move from the pavement where he stands and is jostled by passersby, muttering about the obscenity of the house. The knock on the door is so far away yet he still hears Fjord kindly greet him and invite him inside. 

It’s just under three minutes that Caleb stays stuck to the paving stones contemplating how to perceive Essek now. Truth be told he’d put a lot of that in compartmentalisation in preparation to help focus on Jester and her big event - he wasn’t ready to dive into the tangled web woven just yet. Not now...and yet what he foolishly bought not even a quarter-hour previous- 

But then he hears a burst of laughter from his _home_ and … and maybe he doesn’t have to untangle that web immediately. Maybe they can …

His boots, still a little soggy on the inside, follow those same steps up the pathway and through the door- 

“So turns out I lost the house key and we think it might be in the bag of holding but also Beau needed to pee so Veth climbed up into the window to come open the door- _Caleb!”_

Jester stops reciting and his friends- his family- all turn from their positions in the foyer to greet him. Essek is the last to turn and, having just entered, is the closest to him. 

The difference between the Shadowhand of the Lucid Bastion and Essek of the Xhorhaus is so much more than a few inches of height. It’s a weight off his shoulders, a smile on his lips. It’s a stern expression missing. It’s a box of cupcakes being offered around, and an impenetrable mantle broken from the inside out. 

It’s silver eyes silently communicating everything and anything that the lips are too afraid to say just yet. It’s the hesitant intake of breath when his gaze searches blue eyes. It’s a quirk of the eyebrows asking… just asking. 

It’s a connection Caleb’s never had before, and time stops and passes simultaneously in a way Dunamancy will never be able to replicate if they tried for millennia. 

It’s a choice made. 

An intangible something shifts in space between them. Caleb feels a smile, genuine and soft, brighten his face. “I have supplies?” and he holds the basket out to Caduceus to sort through his own necessities. 

It breaks the warm welcome and the Nein kick into gear, readying to leave once again. Two or three go upstairs to change or- whatever. Caduceus and Yasha make for the dining area and Fjord offers an arm, asking Vilya if she would like to see the tree. Veth is last to depart, and gives a sly look from behind Essek to an unmoving Caleb before skipping with Frumpkin off to join- someone. He doesn’t notice which direction.

“I-”

“Well we-”

Their laugh is silly and awkward and Caleb … Caleb likes it. The stress of the last few days hasn’t dissipated, his ears and neck are still a little hot, and his socks need changing but… but this is a welcome change of pace. “Library?” and he shows Essek to their favoured ‘study space’ of past sessions. 

Entering into the library after being so long away is _almost_ an unproblematic moment... until he opens the door and remembers too late the disarray he left it in during his frenzy of final notes for Veth’s ritual. 

Papers are scattered discordantly- some slept on the floor, some books still left open, or tumbled where they had been left precariously and finally succumbed to gravity. Judging by the lack of dusting in here, it seems that Vedalla was either very lax in her work or made an appraised choice to not disturb his work space. If it was the latter he wanted to give her a raise for the forethought. But for the moment, entering with Essek on his heels, and suddenly remembering the drow’s own pristine, gorgeous laboratory and library of his own in a round tower, Caleb feels even hotter than he did this morning if possible. Embarrassment wasn’t something he wore often.

“Ah, I - oh. Hmm.” There was no salvaging this. 

“The undeniable proof of a busy mind,” Essek compliments, boldly sliding past Caleb and going to pick up the nearest book from its graceless posture on the ground. Caleb nearly gapes just watching Essek’s long fingers caress each page into flattening states before closing it over and setting it on the central table. 

“There _were_ cupcakes,” he continues. “But I am afraid the ladies have awayed with the box and I am not fool enough to challenge any of them on the matter.”

Caleb chuckles and closes the door. “A wise choice on your part. They killed a god this morning, you know.”

“Indeed!” and Essek practically beams at him. “In an _actual_ volcano... I do not understand why I am so surprised. It was you- the _Mighty Nein._ Of _course_ it would be an _actual_ volcano and yet-”

“And yet.”

The silence settles between them as ripples on a calm day. It’s not intrusive, or awkward. It’s contemplative. Comfortable. Understanding. 

Caleb counts the strides between them. Three. Three and a bit. So short a distance but he was still so far. Whatever camaraderie they were testing here was shaky, they both knew, but they were trying to rebuild the foundations anew with a better dynamic. They were peers, intellectual equals. Challengers, and confidants. Friends. 

Maybe-

“I hear that my services are not actually required. Jester was just...” Being Jester. His voice is quiet, and Caleb looks up from the dusty floorboards. The facade Caleb witnessed Essek adopt outside cracks a little as Essek turns a fraction to peer at the table, at a book, a page... _away._ They both know he’s not really seeing anything. 

“Uh, j-ja. It’s a very curious thing, Vilya’s tree magic. I’ve heard of it, but to witness and experience it - it’s-”

The wrong thing to say. The shoulders that had drooped stiffen ever so slightly.

_Schiesse. Fix this, Widogast!_

“It’s a similar tool, ja. Different … components, but same outcome essentially. Cheating really. Not too much art to it,” and Caleb steps forward. “There is no flavour to it, no real preparation.” Another step. Essek’s ears twitch and his hand stills where it had been absently tapping on the book cover. Caleb pulls out something from his newly-refilled component pouch, settling into his stride. “There’s no _passion_ for it, not as much appreciation,” and in a bold move, bolder than Caleb pulling a sacred religious artefact to present to a royal monarch, he reaches very obviously for Essek’s frozen hand. It comes to him with little resistance, and Caleb turns it palm up in his gentle hold.

In it he places one long, beautifully engraved piece of chalk. It’s a shimmering amber colour, gossamer and far more extravagant than what Caleb would typically pick up. But he places it in Essek’s slender fingers, for etched beneath the dark amber, filling in the gaps of the meticulously carved curves and lines, is a deep, rich indigo interior.   
  


“There’s very little flair or finesse to what she does,” and the whisper is delivered in a low, directed voice with as much care as he would take inscribing a brand new spell. He delicately continues, bowing his head into Essek’s space. Those silver eyes are hooded and fixated on their joined hands, and what lays atop them. “It might be the same result,” Caleb carefully closes long, dark fingers over the item. “But she’s not _you._ ”

Essek releases a breath Caleb didn’t realise he was holding. It’s shaky, unsteady. Warm. 

“I- “

Caleb waits. Not letting go of this tenuous connection, not wishing to break this new spell between them they were crafting. Something fresh was being woven into these foundations and rocky as they may be, Caleb felt this… was _right._

“ _I …_ “

Caleb slowly lets one thumb swipe across closed knuckles. 

“I have no need for such a … lavish gift, Caleb.”

The rejection feels immediate, almost like a winding punch in the chest- did he - 

He misread? He misundersto-

“I have money and gold aplenty. An obscene amount really,” and Essek’s talking, staring at his closed hand still resting in Caleb’s. “Material costs are of no issue to me ever-” he finally looks up and whatever doubt had taken hold, whatever shadow had briefly befallen him had fled to be overtaken by a - by something a lot stronger. “Not for my friends.”

A heartbeat. 

Two. 

“Not for you.”

Caleb feels the squeezing of the fist and doesn’t register the cracking noise until the palm opens up and the chalk is split unevenly in half. The shock of dark purple was fully encompassed by the dusty amber - almost mirroring the way Caleb’s hand cupped Essek’s within his curled fingers now. The hand turns and Caleb feels the fingers unfurl, and half of the stick is deposited in his grip. The hand presses down still until all that separates their palms is chalk. Fingertips, light and tentative, touch at the tip of Caleb’s wrist. He feels his own echo the movement beneath a fine sleeve. 

“Essek-”

“There is … still a lot to deal with, I know.” He frowns, eyes roaming over their almost-joined hands. “I know. But-” and that earnest look meets Caleb’s eyes once more without a spark of deception behind it. “But I _am_ wanting to do good things now. For… for you, yes. For you. For them-” and a timely thump is heard above them, followed by distant laughter. “For… perhaps even for _us_.” and the words are a prayer, whispered in newly found faith. “But I want to do it for me, Caleb. And I have a _long_ way to go, I know. I have a lot to understand. But I am willing.” He gives a low, watery chuckle. “And I hope that you and the Nein will guide me where I am terrified of going. You, especially.” and a smirk, more like the first time they met all those months ago crosses his face impishly. “I am a big learner, after all.” 

Caleb feels something bubble within him, new and hopeful. Hearing his own words reflected back at him from someone who wormed his way into their party as his tutor with a genuine intent behind them- 

The ground was truly level between the pair, and while there was still some obstacles to cross, and hurdles to defeat, Caleb felt sure they were going to tackle them strongly. Together.

“I will hold you to that, Thelyss.”

“I am exclusively counting on it, Widogast.”

A knock at the door informs them that it’s time to go. 

“Ja! Be right there!” Caleb calls, breaking their spell briefly before turning back. “So, did I buy this _beautiful_ chalk for nothing?” he teases, already pocketing his imperfect, perfect half away- not in his component pouch, but the inside left compartment of his coat. 

“We will … call it a _favour,_ ” Essek responds, raising one fine eyebrow in a mock-challenge. It incenses Caleb in the best of ways. 

He was right, there was still a lot to be dealing with, and more understanding to be gained, questions to be answered and wrongs to right... but that did not mean they could not enjoy the now. 

“A _favour_. Very well!” he laughs. “In that case, I’ll ask you once more.” He stands back, and starts towards the door before looking over his shoulder. “Essek Thelyss, do you want to come to a volcano?”  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> And then Essek went to Rumblecusp for a well earned holiday, Beau teased him for lying to his work about this being an ‘official visit’, he wore a floral print shirt and shorts and shades and had his parasol and he had to sleep rough for the entire time. He loved it, travellercon went off like a big massive beach party, and Essek and Caleb kissed on the shoreline in the moonlight by the waves the end don’t @ me.
> 
> In episode 91, about 57 minutes into the (youtube) episode, Caleb asked Essek if he wanted to come to a volcano amidst Jester's speech about Travellercon. Essek declined then. He did not a second time around >:) 
> 
> Absolutely _beautiful_ artwork of the chalk in the hands kindly gifted by AlixCat / @Alicat_cookie because they're a precious bean and I love them so much T_T <3


End file.
